


Captivity

by altoid_tin



Category: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Captive Ezra Bridger, Captive Kanan Jarrus, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Imperials are not as bad as they seem, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injured Thrawn, Moral Dilemmas, Moral Lessons, Prisoner of War, The Rebels are not tortured, Thrawn is the one who was tortured
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28969410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altoid_tin/pseuds/altoid_tin
Relationships: Ezra Bridger & Kanan Jarrus, Karyn Faro/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Captivity

In a hurry to get away from the troopers patrolling further down the corridor, Ezra and Kanan moved simultaneously to the innocent small door behind the bulkhead. Ezra slapped the entrance with an audible signal, hoping beyond hope that it would let him in, and even before it chirped, the door opened - an automatic lock.

"Oh, thank you, thank you," Ezra breathed, half running and half falling into the dark room inside. Kanan was close to him; after a second the door slid again and they heard soldiers marching through the corridor without realizing what prize they had just missed.

Slowly Ezra's eyes adjusted to the complete lack of light. He turned in a circle, observing an empty room. Kanan turned next to him, though, whether he had actually seen something, it was up to discussion; Ezra was still not sure how exactly the Force showed him the world. Or maybe it was his mask that did most of the work; it seemed to be a sensitive topic to inquire about, so Ezra just ignored it so far.

"It seems to be a private home," Ezra said, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Empty?" Kanan asked. His hand was outstretched as he reached for the Force that was leading him, but his lips were pulled in frown.

"... Yes," Ezra said.

He knew Kanan could feel his hesitations in response. The thing is, Ezra could see the same hesitation on Kanan’s face and he knew they both felt the same thing - a strange, empty, pulling feeling that seemed to permeate the room.

Negatively, Ezra stretched out with the Force and felt almost like ... as if he had just run his head against the wall, but he was so spiced that he could barely feel the effect. Muted pressure, not quite painful, but also not quite pleasant.

"Something is wrong here," Kanan whispered, and then Ezra's eyes followed to the right and he saw it.

A bed on the far side of the room.

Barely visible is a still figure lying on it.

"Kanan," Ezra said, already in a fighting position. He laid his hand on Kanan's hand and showed the bed; then realizing that Kanan did not see it, he lowered his voice further and breathed, "There is something here."

Kanan said nothing; his ears clung as he tried to catch another person in the room. But even Ezra's outstretched hand could not feel that spark of extraordinary power that came from another living being. The body on the bed felt like an utter emptiness.

"Are they…?"

“One way to find out,” Kanan said.

They lit their lightsabers at the same time, an unspoken agreement between them remained. Something’s not right here, Kanan said. Ezra had never met anyone so sincerely correct in his life. He took the first step very reluctantly, quietly slipping through the floor of the doorway, pushing his legs so as not to make any sound.

The closer he was to the small utilitarian bed, the harder his heart beat. Closer and closer, and he saw the outline of the figure - and he did not look like a dead man. Throwing his forearm over his eyes in this way, the man in bed looked asleep.

But if he was just sleeping, then why couldn’t Ezra feel him?

Two steps further and he began to suspect the answer. The darkness of the room and the glow of his and Kanan’s sabers complicated the story, emitting flashes of green and blue light through the form of a sleeping man. Still, it became quite clear what they were looking at - and Ezra had a pretty good idea of what it was -

He had blue skin.

"Karabast," Ezra said, and out of intuition alone, he raised his lightsaber over his head to strike, and then the whole operation went to hell.

Later, he won’t be sure what happened first and what second. He watched as the blanket, loosely affixed to Grand Admiral Thrawn, spontaneously ignited with a hissing burning sound; the moment a bluish-purple light struck Kanan in the chest, he realized that an explosive had to be hidden under it, that it was set to stun, that the alien was not sleeping at all in bed.

And then - maybe in a second, maybe at the same time - something with a very big, very electric stick hit Ezra over the back of his head.

Everything turned black.

* * *

He woke up - and it was inconceivable - in less than a minute. The vision is still blurred, his first thought was: Don’t people suffer brain damage if they are knocked out for too long?

Gradually he then noticed some undoubtedly more important details than the concussion.

First: his hands were handcuffed behind his back. He felt someone’s shoulder lean heavily on him; he looked to the side and just had time to register Kanan, who was still stunned, until Kanan began to stir and became awake again.

Second: in front of him was an incredibly ugly creature the size of a small man, some alien with the face of a pug whose skin was gray slate. This creature carried electrical engineering; of late Ezra joined that staff with the very large stick that struck him in the moment when everything was fine and remarkably, and his hands were not put on his cuffs, and he still had his -

Oh, kriff.

Third: he did not have his sword of light. He noticed it across the room, in--

Fourth, and worst of perception: Thrawn’s hand. His sword of light was in Thrawn's hand. Grand Admiral Thrawn, who apparently claimed this room as his private dwelling.

They were hiding from a mere squad of small stormtroopers in the bedroom of Grand Admiral Thrawn.

"Kriff," Ezra said aloud this time. His voice turned out loud and thick. The situation seemed so strange that he could barely handle it, but Thrawn was still across the room, still lying with the blanket covering him, as if lying down was an appropriate way to deal with capturing two Jedi. He lay on his back with his head leaning on the flattest, most uncomfortable pillow in the world, while holding above his head Ezra's stolen lightsaber and unconsciously examining the handle.

A gray alien stepping against Ezra and Kanan barked a question — or a statement that Ezra did not know exactly — in a language he did not recognize. After a long moment, Thrawn gently laid Ezra's lightsaber on the plastic shelf above his head and answered. The same speech in Thrawn's voice sounded squeaking and barely audible.

And then, noticeably sighing, Thrawn pulled the imperial comlink from under the pillow, unlocked it, and said, "Commodore."

The word was barely recognizable when it appeared; It took Ezra a moment to translate what sounds like "Khm ... dr ..." into Commodore. Late, he realized that Thrawn was not speaking a foreign language that sounded hoarse and barely audible; it was the whole voice of Thrawn.

What the hell was going on here?

"Sir," said the woman's voice through the com. "I am now opening a transfer link in your database."

Thrawn’s expression didn’t change as he hid the comlink back under his pillow and removed something else: a sleek, high-end data tablet. He tapped it quietly, not even looking at the captive Jedi. After a minute of writing completely without words, he darkened the screen and put it aside.

And a moment later, Ezra heard an unmistakable sound as the entire stormtrooper unit crammed down the corridor. Thrawn lay on his bed, completely relaxed and put his forearm on his eyes again when the door exploded open and the attackers burst in.

All Ezra could do was jump and close his eyes as the soldiers surrounded him and Kanan. He held out his hand to the Force — at the lightsaber on Thrawn's shelf — and felt nothing. For the first time, he realized that he had been blocked not only from Thrawn: he could not sense any of the participants in the assault, or the gray alien or even Kanan.

On the shelf, his lightsaber didn’t even budge.

Fantastic. And now the little gray alien spoke. Great.

"These rebels," he said seriously, "tried to kill the Grand Admiral. I captured them."

The commander of the army, recognizable only by the orange shoulder caldron, drew himself to attention and turned to Thrawn. Other soldiers supported the gunmen near Ezra and Kanan.

"Sir," the commander said in greeting. "Are you hurt?"

Thrawn briefly removed his forearm from his eyes to give the commander a dry look.

"Are you hurt ... further?" the commander said a little more subtly.

Ezra stared in shock as Thrawn shook his head only once and then, to all appearances, fell asleep again. He even turned on his side, his back to the whole scene, his blanket clutched to his chest in both hands.

As if he didn’t have two captured Jedi in his room.

"The prisoners must stay here," said the little gray alien, and Ezra's head immediately fled from Thrawn to see the alien who had taken him. He couldn’t be serious.

"We're taking them to the hold," the stormtrooper commander said, shaking his head.

“They have to stay here,” the alien said.

The nervous commander made an aborted, speechless gesture toward Grand Admiral Thrawn's bed.

"They are safe here," the alien said stubbornly. :These are the orders of the Grand Admiral."

Thrawn, Ezra noticed, did not bother to confirm or deny this statement. Or turn over to watch. After a moment, clearly hesitating, the commander turned and pressed the button on the outside of the helmet.

"Medical?" He said. “Please can we raise the doctor to the admiral’s personal home? Thank you."

"Extremely polite stormtroopers," Kanan muttered. Ezra was mildly surprised when none of the soldiers nearby retaliated against him for this comment. On the opposite side of the room, Thrawn waved his hand to summon the commander to himself; when the commander was at his side, Thrawn tilted the database up so he could see it.

He was then silent as the commander read what was displayed on the screen.

"I'd like to leave you at least a little guard, sir," he said, and after a second's thought Thrawn nodded. Immediately the commander turned to his unit, pointing to the door. "Go back to your stations," he said. "Gamee, Frittai, you both stay here and protect the Admiral."

At the same time, the two soldiers closest to Ezra and Kanan snapped to attention and said, "Sir." They changed their positions as the remaining soldiers filtered out, coming to stand closer to Thrawn's bed with their backs to the admiral, and their eyes - as far as Ezra could tell - trained to the captured Jedi.

Throughout the hustle and bustle, Ezra could feel the Kanan shifting in a minute way, no doubt testing the strength of the binders around his wrists. Ezra had already done the same; there was no point, no chance of liberation.

Looking at the inclined figure of Thrawn, Ezra first thought that perhaps he and Kanan had been affected by some deadly virus, so they were not allowed to leave. The troopers would probably be safe with helmets and attached air filters - but he, Kanan and Thrawn - and, of course, a gray alien who ...

Ezra glanced around the room.

...they seemed to be gone

"Ezra," Kanan barely breathed, "calm down."

"I'm calm," Ezra said, his own voice much harsher than Kanan's. He glanced quickly at Thrawn, who ... didn't seem completely interested in their conversation. He was still printing messages in his database to the commander to see, lying on a sad, flat-looking pillow, as if he were not being cared for in the world.

"Ezra—" Kanan started again from that low, hasty tone, which meant that he was going to pass on the wisdom associated with half the power.

“I want to know what’s going on,” Ezra said, loud enough this time for everyone to hear. He stared at Thrawn, who only glanced briefly in his direction before returning to the data screen. The Admiral's voice was so corrupted that although he occasionally muttered orders to the commander of the assault squad, Ezra could not understand anything.

And he was sick of being ignored.

He again reached out to his lightsaber, determined to force the admiral to sit down and pay attention.

... and nothing happened.

"Kriff," Ezra whispered, leaning against some piece of awkward furniture that stuck in his spine. Maybe Thrawn's table?

"Patience," Kanan said.

"We're literally imprisoned in Thrawn's bedroom," Ezra whispered. He had a brief moment of insane hope that perhaps Kanan knew something he did not know, but then he saw a shadow passing through Kanan's blind eyes and knew it was not true.

“We were in worse situations,” Kanan said.

"Sure. Want to list some of them for me?"

Kanan opened his mouth, more likely to scold Ezra than to prove his point - and closed it again a second later when the corridor door opened with a hiss. The medical officer stepped inside, her eyes automatically passing through Ezra and Kanan before she processed what she was looking at exactly. Her eyes immediately zoomed back to them.

"Sir?" she said to Thrawn. It shocked Ezra incredibly when Thrawn actually spoke.

"Treat the prisoners, Captain."

With his hoarse voice, it came out: _Chree ... pzznr, khtn ..._

If the medical officer was as surprised by such an order as Ezra and Kanan, she certainly did not show it - she was already halfway to them. The next moment she turned the scanner on Kanan, looking at his statistics. Both Ezra and Kanan sat quietly, their shoulders forming a tense line as she examined his eyes.

"Were you stunned?" she asked. Ezra's eyes turned to Thrawn, who stared blankly at him as Ezra frowned.

"Yes," said Kanan.

“The effect has already disappeared,” the captain said in a voice of disapproval or curiosity. She turned to Ezra. "Let me look at your head."

Reluctantly, Ezra lowered his chin to his chest, exposing the knot in his skull. He felt her fingers run through his hair, causing him to shrink away. Then he sat up straight, not in pain, but in amazement as she placed a cool, soothing patch of bacta on the wound.

"Let me guess," the medical officer said, her eyes blinking toward Thrawn, "Rukh?"

Thrawn just nodded, his gaze stuck on the database.

"Where is he now?" the medical officer asked.

Thrawn mumbled vaguely and indicated the empty room.

"I see," the medical officer said. She shone a light in Ezra's eyes, and then, without commenting further, stood up and wiped away the wrinkles of her uniform. She approached Thrawn with an air of duty and what Ezra could only guess was to be a stir.

"And you, sir?" the captain said with a critical look at Thrawn. He didn’t look away from his database as she raised her hands to his throat column; he only gradually changed the position so that he could continue writing on the screen without interrupting her. “It's still swollen,” the medical officer commented, not looking particularly surprised. "We will try the bacta patch again tomorrow and see if it drops. How is your voice?"

"Not ideal," Thrawn said. The words turned out like a thin, cracked whisper. On the other side of the room, Ezra could only guess what Thrawn was saying, filling in the vowels himself.

"What about your ribs?" the medical officer asked. Looking down, she seemed to notice the burnt hole in Thrawn's blanket for the first time. This time her exasperation was undeniable; she wiped the blanket from Thrawn without even asking permission, and Thrawn didn't blame her - he just picked up his database for her and kept working.

Under the blanket, Thrawn wore what Ezra recognized from his undercover days as standard issue imperial training clothes — undershirt and soft, non-descriptive pants with straps that hung under the soles of his feet. For a moment, that little detail seemed so ridiculous that it made Ezra dizzy. He wore the same clothes once himself; he could still remember how the other cadets told him: Better just sleep with your exercise clothes on. You can never know when they will wake you up, and if you wear them, you can always just throw your uniform on over them. Can't do that with civvies.

The medical officer ceremoniously threw the blanket singed by Thrawn down a garbage chute inserted into the wall. This time, returning to bed, Thrawn finally turned off the database and put it down.

The medical officer lifted up his undershirt.

Ezra watched out of the edge of his eye, swallowed hard, and turned away. The mess of bloody bandages did little to hide the severity of the wound, and they did nothing to hide the obvious blast scars scattered on the admiral's chest and collar bones.

What the hell happened to Thrawn?


End file.
